Chapter Fifteen

T hey let Micah out of the cage. Micah allowed that tall, thin… being—he wasn't sure it was human—to put a wire around his wrist. The wire would prevent him from shifting, and if he tried to remove it, his hand would come off too.

Seemed like a serious enough threat that he didn't want to test it.

Still, shame kept Micah's head bowed and slowed his steps, but with Anders at his side, he made it up the stairs and into the conference room.

This meeting was mercifully brief, and the outcome was that Micah was allowed to leave with Anders as long as they both promised to return in a fortnight to meet with the Tribunal. Micah had to give them Jessie's full name along with Anna's, but Georgi promised they'd be left alone unless things went nuts.

"I almost believe him," Anders said as soon as they were outside on the sidewalk. He traced the wire, wondering how badly he'd fucked up this time.

"And I wanted them to let me shift into Micah's form." He sounded whinier than he wanted to. Shit.

"This is good, though. I like seeing the real you."

Anders' words were reassuring, but something in his tone made Micah uneasy. Rather than respond, he stayed silent, following where Anders led. They reached his truck parked in a grocery store lot, and only when they were both buckled in did Micah dare to break the silence.

"Thank you." He owed Anders at least that.

"Don't worry about it." Anders put the car in gear, looking at the rearview mirror, out the window, front, back, and sideways, anywhere but at Micah.

"You didn't have to—"

"Yes, I did." He swore under his breath. "Look, I was crawling out of my skin, and it's a damned good thing I did, or you'd never have gotten out of that goddamn cage."

Micah didn't know what to say to that. He was out of spoons.

Anders cleared his throat. "Sorry. It's been a day."

Finding something like a smile, Micah put his hand on Anders' thigh. "'S okay."

"We should find a hotel. I don't want to drive all the way to Elwha tonight."

"I've got a place. It's not fancy so, if you want, we can find someplace else tomorrow."

"Taking things one day at a time works for me."

"Yeah, me too." Micah typed the address into his map app and they rode in silence, following directions given by an artificial voice.

They hit a McDonald's drive-through for dinner and a 7-11 for a six-pack of beer. Micah usually drank wine, but he figured he'd give Anders dibs since the guy had just busted him out of supe-jail.

The hotel had a view of the highway and of Elliot Bay beyond that, and the room was big enough that they could both walk around at the same time. In addition to a queen-sized bed, there was a table and a small loveseat facing the flat-screen TV.

"You want to watch something?" Micah asked, taking a seat at the table and opening the bag from McDonald's. The salty- grease smell made his stomach growl, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to choke any food down.

Anders came up behind him, putting his hands on Micah's shoulders. "What I want is… I want to know everything. Not just the wraith thing, but everything else."

Micah swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "I told you I used to steal things for Jessie."

"Yeah, and? I'm going to be with you, baby, no matter what, but I want to hear it from you."

"Why would you say that?"

"What?"

"You know what I'm like, and yet you say you're going to stay with me."

Anders pulled the other chair around so he could sit beside Micah. "Because, baby, you're not that guy, okay? You've had some bad breaks, and the demon needs to go back to hell, but you, the real you, needs to have somebody on your side." He snatched a fry out of Micah's bag. "I guess I'm volunteering for that position."

Nearly overcome with emotions he didn't understand, Micah started to talk. He went through each of Seth Damyan's seven tasks: the theft, the lying, the time he had a guy beat up and the time he had a woman carjacked at gunpoint. By the time he finished, his throat was raw and his voice was barely a whisper.

Throughout it all, Anders stayed quiet, only prompting him once or twice. So quiet that Micah was half-convinced the werewolf was going to head out the door when he finished.

"I did it for Anna," he said finally, rasping the words. "I had to keep her safe."

"I get that." Anders flung his balled-up hamburger wrapper at the trash can. "But it stops now, all right? We're going to work together to keep Anna safe and convince SPAM to help us deal with Seth Damyan. We'll deal with whatever punishment the Tribunal assigns you and then, well, then we'll have the rest of our lives."

Anders wasn't smiling, exactly, but Micah got lost in the depths of his warm, dark eyes. "Why?" he asked. Why would Anders make a promise like that?

"We're mates," Anders said simply.

"How is that… what? How?"

Anders took hold of his hand, sending a surge of emotion through Micah. An emotion he couldn't easily identify; heat and affection, sure, but also real sadness, and something bigger.

Something Micah really didn't want to name.

"You're not happy about it? I mean, I can't see why you would be—"

Anders covered Micah's mouth with his hand. "Hush." He shook his head. "This isn't easy for either of us." He laughed, but it had a bitter aftertaste. "Wolves don't always mate, and it's even less common for us to mate outside our genus. You're not a wolf, which makes things… complicated."

Deciding they'd had enough heavy conversation, Micah kissed Anders' palm, cupping his hand so he could lick away the last salty traces of hamburger and suck each finger clean.

In response, Anders traced a line along Micah's cheekbone. "Could cut glass with these things. Ow." He shook his hand as if he'd sliced himself, his smile more sincere.

Micah rose, pulling off his hoodie in the same motion. "Come on." He kicked off his jeans. "Let's go to bed."

Anders stripped, revealing himself for Micah to appreciate. "You're built like a Greek god," Micah murmured and ran his hands along Anders' shoulders and over his pecs. "Gorgeous."

"You're pretty fucking gorgeous yourself." Grinning, Anders pinched one of Micah's nipples, which sent a flash of pain and heat right to his balls. "Even if you do look like Micah's sexier older brother."

Micah had to laugh at that. "I look like what?"

Anders caught his face in both hands. "You look like my mate, the one my wolf chose over all others." He kissed him, a light brush of lips. "My wolf likes this version"—he ran a hand down Micah's chest—"better than he did Gage anyway, so we're good."

"I suppose I'm going to have to learn never to argue with a wolf."

Grinning, Anders reached lower, stroking Micah's shaft. "It's a battle I've never won, so yeah, get used to it."

They kissed, an act both vulnerable and defiant, and when Micah dragged Anders over to the bed, he did so wrapped in that unfamiliar, unnamable feeling.

Something that might have been love.

Love? "Impossible," he murmured between kisses.

"What?" Anders asked.

Micah came to the edge of telling Anders how he felt but chickened out. "I can't believe this is happening."

Rolling them both so Micah lay flat on his back with Anders above him, the wolf grinned. "Believe it, baby. This is the real thing."

The real thing. Micah fell asleep still wrapped in that feeling. When he woke up, a white serpent lay curled on Anders' chest. Seth Damyan's messenger. Anders was awake, his body rigid.

The thing raised its head, looking Micah in the eye.

"Baby?" Anders whispered.

As much as Micah wanted to, he couldn't shift because of that damned wire. Instead, he did the first thing that came to mind. He grabbed the snake by the head and flung it to the floor.

Eyes blazing red, fangs out, the serpent came slithering back at them. Micah jumped up, looking wildly for a weapon of some kind.

Anders shifted.

Instead of his lover, a black wolf stood on the bed, fangs bared. Moving terribly fast, the serpent reached the bed and slithered onto the mattress. The wolf snarled, a sound that raised gooseflesh on Micah's neck. That slowed the serpent, who coiled onto the corner of the bed, turning its head from Micah to the wolf and back.

"Seth Damyan," Micah yelled. "Get this thing out of here. I did what you wanted, and now we're done."

The snake didn't move, though an echo of the demon's laughter rang through the space.

Before the laughter faded, the wolf began to stalk toward the serpent, taking slow, deliberate steps. If anything, its growl grew more fierce. The serpent lifted its head higher, its mouth wide. Fangs bared.

The wolf feinted, lunged, staying clear of the fangs.

"Anders, don't. I'll call someone. SPAM. Seattle PD. Someone. Don't get close to it!"

The wolf lunged again, coming closer. The serpent snapped its jaw shut, coming away with a few strands of black fur.

"NO," Micah yelled. At the same time, the wolf lunged. Its jaws snapped on the serpent's body, but too low, leaving its head free. The thing sank its fangs into the wolf's jaw. Micah screamed. The wolf shook its head, flinging the serpent across the room.

When it hit the floor, the serpent faded away into a streak of char. The wolf lay on the bed, breathing hard.

"Shift back. Please." Micah spoke low, doing his best not to panic. Hadn't Anders said that wolves could heal themselves by shifting? "Please, Anders. Come back to me."

The wolf simply lay there, its breathing growing more labored. Micah leapt off the bed to find his phone. He found it, swiped the screen, and tapped the number for SPAM.

Whoever answered barely got a hello out before Micah started talking. "I need help now. Now . My mate has been bitten by a serpent sent by Seth Damyan and I'm…" His throat closed up and he couldn't say anything else.

The woman on the other end stayed calm, which probably saved Anders' life. She asked for their location and whether the serpent was still alive. To SPAM's credit, they had a team there within five minutes. Two men and a woman, all wearing jackets with SPAM logos. One man introduced himself as Stefanos Barros, a paranormal veterinarian with some expertise in treating wolves. Micah had a blurry impression of dark hair and a competent manner, so he let the doctor do his thing.

Geordi arrived a few minutes after the others. He took a moment to survey the room, then asked, "What happened here?"

"We had dinner and went to bed," Micah said, "and when I woke up, there was a white serpent on Anders' chest." He shut his eyes, unable to watch them lift the wolf onto a gurney.

Before they moved him away from the bed, Micah put his hand on the wolf's flank. "Get well, my love. I will destroy Seth Damyan, no matter what it takes."

They rolled the gurney toward the door, but Dr. Barros stayed behind. "I'll catch up with you at the truck," he said to the medical crew. They pushed the gurney through the door, and Micah was pretty sure his heart went with it.

Because all that was left in his chest was a bleeding hole.

"So, I'm going to be honest with you," Dr. Barros said. "Depending on how much venom and how central the bite, victims either wake up within an hour or so"—he cleared his throat—"or they don't."

Micah sank onto the bed, his head in his hands. Dr. Barros gently squeezed his shoulder. "We'll do what we can."

"Thanks," Micah whispered. "Take good care of him."

"We will." With one final squeeze, the veterinarian left.

A phone rang, and it took Micah a moment to realize he wasn't alone in the room. Geordi fished the phone out of Anders' jeans from where they lay on the floor. Micah was too far gone in his own head to pay attention to the conversation, at least until he heard Geordi say, "Yeah, Potter, you better get on the road."

Geordi ended the call and fixed Micah with a look that seemed to find the bottom of his soul. "If you really loved him," Geordi said, "you'd have run the other way."

Micah fought off a sob. "What can I do now?"

"I think you've done enough."

"Seriously? You're going to come at me with that?" Micah jumped off the bed, stalking around the room. He was on his second lap before he realized he was still naked. He grabbed the first pair of jeans that hit his hand, pulled them on, then turned to face Geordi.

"Would it help if I brought a vial of demon blood? Maybe Seth Damyan's head on a platter? Anything?"

Geordi stood with his arms crossed, the SPAM logo on his jacket hidden by folds of fabric. "You know if your mate dies, you will, too."

"Fucking fantastic. What's it been, maybe eight hours since I learned I had a mate? And now we're both going to die." Micah made another lap, his mind churning. He stopped directly in front of Geordi. "If I'm going to die, let me take Seth Damyan with me. Anders and I have only known each other a week or so, but he's the best thing in my life."

"Are you sure? The man who was Corbin Blande would have hit the ground running ten minutes ago."

Micah gasped at the direct hit to his soul. "You're right," he managed. "Corbin Blande did a lot of shitty things, and so did Thomas Broadmoor. Hell, Micah Jenkins wasn't a saint, either." He gave a weak laugh. "But I'm here, and I want to be better than all of those other versions of myself. I can't shift, but I can fight. Tell me what to do."

"What's your name, son?"

Micah went rigid. "I'm not sure why that matters here."

Geordi straightened his SPAM jacket, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Because if you want to be part of SPAM, I need your real goddamn name. Now, what is it?"

Jesus, am I really joining SPAM? He said the words out loud, his first and last names.

Geordi repeated them. "I should have guessed." His expression grew warmer. "All right, Micah, I will keep your confidence because I owe your grandfather a favor. Finish getting dressed and we'll head over to the office. I want to introduce you to your new team."

"My… grandfather? My team?"

"Later. Let's go check on your mate."

That motivated Micah to move. He'd turned a corner somewhere in the last few hours, but he still had no idea where this road was going to take him.

He could deal with that as long as Anders survived.